


The More She Hates...

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-21
Updated: 2009-08-24
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Practical Lily Evans hates James Potter, who in her opinion is an arrogant idiot. James, in turn, finds Evans an annoying goody-two-shoes. When Potter plays a prank on her in their fourth year, though, things twist and turn in ways neither expected.





	1. Just another prank (or so he thought)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

The common room was deserted, save for a certain redhead dozing off on one of the common room’s tables. Books and bits of parchment were scattered about her, giving an impression of neglect. The only sounds audible in the stillness were the fire crackling feebly in the hearth, and barely audible snores.

            Without warning, the common room door swung open, revealing the darkness outside. Slowly, and almost without creaking, the door closed again.

            And still, the sleeping girl remained to be the only occupant of the room. Or, so it seemed.

“ _Pthffffff... Evaaaans.... whoooo!_ ”

            Lily awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep over her Arithmancy homework, she realized, and now there was someone pretending to be Peeves behind her back. She groaned.

            “If all you intend to be,” she said through gritted teeth, “is a pathetically bothersome person all your life, why, oh why can’t you be a bother at the right time?” She groaned again. She still had half of her homework to finish, and it was probably three in the morning.

            The voice behind her cackled wickedly, very much sounding like a madman. Annoyed, Lily fumbled for her wand.

            “Looking for this?” the voice asked, and Lily turned to see her wand waving in the air, apparently of its own accord.

            Lily groaned for the third time. “I was going to hex you with that, Potter,” she snarled, all drowsiness gone. “Give that back to me.”

            “Oh, I don’t know, really,” said James Potter, finally emerging from his Invisibility Cloak. Lily suddenly wished he didn’t. The sight of Potter always made her feel sick, especially when he wears that mischievous grin on his face.

            Lily’s eyes narrowed after his pronouncement. “James Potter, give me my wand!”

            “Tomorrow, I promise, I will,” said Potter, the wicked grin on his face spreading even more widely. With that, he disappeared under his cloak again.

            Lily stared for a moment, then sighed, wondering what she ever did to deserve being in the same house as James Potter, bane of her existence. Tomorrow, she was sure, he was going to pull off some spectacular prank again, and she, Lily, one of the favorite victims, will no longer sit down and suffer the consequences.

Lily had almost forgotten about the wand business when she woke up the following morning. It was only when she had gone down to the Great Hall for breakfast when she remembered. Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch that had nothing to do with an empty stomach.

            Her fellow Gryffindors were staring at her, smirking. A lot of them were having muttered conversations behind her back. She turned her head to look for Potter, who, suspiciously, wasn’t watching her. He was, as usual, sitting with his friends, laughing at some stupid joke Sirius Black had just cracked.

            “Hey,” said a voice behind her, and she turned again to look at the fifth year who had just called her. She was smirking, too, as she handed her a long piece of wood. “I didn’t know you fancied him that much,” she whispered, giving her a significant look before returning to the table.

            It was her wand she had returned. With increasing panic, she wondered how she had come to have it with her, and what Potter had told the whole house. She decided to approach Marlene.

            “What’s happening?” she asked, sitting beside her friend.

            Marlene looked at her, biting her lip. “Lil, I think Potter gave Bertha your wand,” she began.

“And?” Lily waited with bated breath.

“He – he said you – you left it in their dormitory last night...”

Lily swore with a ferocity that would have surprised even the headmaster. “He _what?_ ”

“Lil, wait, calm down!” Marlene called after her, but Lily had already stormed towards James Potter, fists clenched. _Bertha Jorkins! Of all people!_ Lily knew Bertha – well, almost everyone did – for her nasty reputation as a rumormonger and a nosy prat. Tell her a tiny secret and she’ll turn it into the biggest piece of gossip overnight. _Now, what –_ Lily thought wildly as she stormed towards the group of boys who were making a small racket with their jokes and laughter, _what the hell did that Potter tell her?_

“Oy, Potter!” she called, unaware of how loud her voice was, and how much attention she was attracting. She was already in front of him when he finally forced himself to look up.

Lily was even more irked to find that he wasn’t smiling. He was feigning innocence. “Anything I can do for y – ?”

__

_ Wham! _

Even before Potter finished his question, Lily had already slammed her fist into James’ mouth. “Damn you!” she snarled, before turning her back on him.

When Marlene mentioned Bertha Jorkins, she realized what the prank was. Potter must have handed the wand to Bertha, telling her, as innocently as possible, to please return it to Lily Evans, she left it on our dormitory last night. It had been a clean one, the prank, because he worked on implications and implications alone. Lily swore again, loathing James Potter to the core.


	2. Reactions

James Potter’s mouth was bleeding. His lips were swollen, and a few teeth had been knocked loose by Lily Evans’ surprisingly powerful fist. Yet he was so shocked that Lily Evans had actually punched him that he didn’t quite realize his mouth tasted of blood until Sirius suggested he go to the hospital wing.

“James, mate,” said Sirius, in what he seemed to think was a consoling manner, “Er, why don’t you – er – hospital wing?”

Peter looked at Sirius as though he had just said something funny. “Sirius, he wouldn’t want to go the hospital wing just because he was slapped by a girl, you know,” he said. “Right, James?”

“You know, looking at the state of him, I think he should,” said Remus darkly, emerging from his Potions notes to peer at him.

“It wushn’t shlapping,” James tried to say, but his numbed tongue muffled his words a bit. He took a swig of cold pumpkin juice to clear his tongue of the bloody taste. “It wasn’t slapping,” he repeated. His lips were still swollen and bleeding, but his tongue now half-tasted of pumpkin juice, too. “It was a punch. That girl,” he said, staring after the shadow of Lily Evans, “has fists like stone.”

“I don’t think she is a girl, after all,” said Peter, following James’ gaze. “I mean, she’s pretty and everything, but – you know,” he said, and he grimaced.

“Aaaaahhh,” said Sirius, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously, “Little Peter knows his girls, bless him.”

Peter went pink, but James laughed. Remus chuckled, stowing his Potions book inside his bag. “C’mon, hospital wing,” he told James.

***

“I wonder,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, peering at the pair of students through her square spectacles, “how I am to expect my students to foster harmonious relationships outside their house, and outside Hogwarts, for that matter, if in their own House, they are unable to treat one another civilly?” She looked at her students sharply.

Lily’s head was bowed. She felt uncomfortable enough to be sitting in McGonagall’s office, much more because she was sitting right opposite James Potter, and they were both being berated by their angry Head of House for their “startlingly, annoyingly childish actions.”

James tried to protest. “Honestly, professor, we didn’t really know we were supposed to be fostering magical cooperation, or whatever the hell it is,” he said, and Lily was irked to see that he was struggling to control his laughter. “I mean, if we were,” he said quickly, seeing McGonagall’s eyebrows rise, “if we were, I really wasn’t doing anything wrong, you know. It was Evans who punched me, after all...”

“Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall, “I honestly am amazed that being an incredibly intelligent and talented young man that you are, you can be simultaneously incredibly immature. I am sure that a sensible girl like Ms. Evans would not have punched you if you did nothing to provoke her.” She looked sternly at Lily as she said this, and Lily felt herself blush in embarrassment. James looked outraged, but only mouthed “sensible girl?” to Lily when McGonagall wasn’t looking. “As a matter of fact, if both of you behaved better, you could both become prefects next year, but that is tantamount to asking for a miracle, especially when you are concerned, Mr. Potter.”

James made a face that clearly stated that he wanted to become prefect as much as Lily Evans would want to marry him.

“Now,” she said, suddenly businesslike, “I am going to deduct twenty points from Gryffindor for your misbehavior,” she said to both of them. 

“But professor,” Lily and James protested at the same time.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “And, I am giving both of you detention.”

***

“Tutoring,” said Sirius, contempt echoing in his voice. “Tutoring Potions. You are going to miss, what – a week, maybe two – with us, just so you could tutor tetchy first years. With Lily Evans. Brilliant, mate,” he told James, thumping him on the back. “Bloody brilliant. Tutoring,” he repeated, snorting with sarcasm.

James looked mutinous. He had been looking so ever since he got out of McGonagall’s office, realizing what his newest detention would cost him. “Yeah, Sirius, thanks for the moral support,” he snarled. “It wasn’t my fault! And it wasn’t even my fault we were tutoring potions,” he said, imitating Sirius’ scornful tone. He stared at the common room fire as he spoke, as though contemplating on roasting someone – Snape, most probably – in it. “McGonagall says Slughorn _requested_ ,” he spat.

“Well, maybe that won’t be so bad,” said Peter hesitantly. “It’s actually an, uh, chance to...” he quelled under the look of incredulity in James’ face.

“You do it, then,” James snapped. “Might as well throw Snivellus in, and then we’d be partying,” he mumbled miserably. Remus looked at exasperatedly at James, but he forestalled him before he could say anything.

“I know what you’re about to say,” James said, holding up a hand. “You’re going to tell me to stop whining.”

Remus smiled despite himself. “And you were quite right,” he said. “Look, I agree with Pete, it won’t be so bad... Evans might not be – er – a _normal_ girl in your standards, but – ”

“Are you going to tell me she’s bloody _nice_?”

“No. I was going to tell you that sulking and whining won’t do you any good, so do stop it James,” said Remus, going back to rereading his Transfigurations homework. “You’ve just got to grit your teeth and do it.”

James slumped in his seat and covered his face with a throw pillow.

***

Lily couldn’t remember the last time she lost control. She hated how it made her feel afterwards, like she had just done something incredibly stupid. But she had, and this time, it was to punch the incorrigible James Potter in the face. It served him right, she thought, but she wished that she didn’t land herself in detention. It made her feel much more ashamed.

“Lily?”

Lily looked up to see a hook-nosed, oily-hared, pale-faced Slytherin sitting opposite her in the library table.

“Hey, Sev,” she said glumly.

“Er, ‘you ok?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. She propped her head with her fist as she turned the page of _Potions and Magical Concoctions: An Intermediate Guide to Potion-making_ heavily. “It’s just...” she looked at Severus, who was looking back at her expectantly.

“Potter?” he said.

“Oh, Sev,” Lily sighed. She knew perfectly how much James Potter loved taunting her best friend, which was one of the main reasons why she disliked Potter and his gang so much. “I punched him, and then McGonagall –”

“You punched him?” he asked, sounding amused.

“He deserved it,” said Lily venomously. She wasn’t going into details about why exactly she had punched him. Not with Sev, who had the tendency to be over-reactive and overprotective when it comes to Potter.

“Yes,” he agreed, smiling a rare smile. “Need a hand there?” he asked, indicating Lily’s Potions essay. “Come on, lighten up,” he said. “If you go on like that, James Potter only gets what he wants, won’t he?”

“We have detention together, Sev,” Lily said blandly.

“You _what?_ ”

Here we go again, thought Lily, bracing herself for the explosion. 


	3. Detention

“Ha, all those times you could have taught me and missed them! Now we’ll see how good a professor you’ll be,” said Peter, sniggering a bit. He was bent over his dream diary, chewing the end of his quill. “Er, do you think I’d have to write in this diary that I dreamed I was a quaffle for three times in a row now?”

 

            “Drop it, Pete,” said James, pulling on his robes. “And we all know how Remus is much more patient when it comes to that sort of stuff,” he said defensively.

 

            “Really? You don’t say...” said Sirius sarcastically, reminding James of how many times he’d used the argument already. Remus and Sirius took turns in tutoring Peter, but Remus really was most patient. When Sirius loses his temper, Remus would be there to the rescue, so much so that they jokingly began to suggest to him that he be a “high-and-mighty professor” (as Sirius put it) someday.

 

            James threw Sirius a dirty look before he swept up the books on his bedside table. “’You certain everything’s in here, mate?” he asked Remus, eyeing the stack of books skeptically.

 

            “Did you read them? Actually opened them?” Remus countered, raising his eyebrows.

 

            “Of course he didn’t,” said Sirius, smiling smugly, as James selected a few of the books and stuffed them into his almost empty bag. “We all know that.” He cocked his head at the books, then shifted on his chair and rested the back of his head on his hands. He looked as handsome as usual, but very lazy. 

 

            “And you remember your first year lessons clearly, I suppose?”

 

            “Drop it,” said Peter, in a very good imitation of James. “He’s gonna be fine. Won’t you?” he added uncertainly, asking James.

 

            James smiled weakly, and then shrugged, looking out the window. It was getting dark. _Better not be late,_ he thought to himself. He was going to push the common room door when he remembered something. He turned back to Sirius.

 

            Guessing what it was, Sirius smiled. “I’m going to take care of it, mate, don’t worry,” he said, giving James two thumbs up.

 

            The last thing James saw before closing the door was Remus raising his eyebrows, as if he was missing something in James’ and Sirius’ short exchange.

 

 

Lily was waiting outside, in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her rich, red hair was tied in an elegant half-ponytail, with a few loose locks framing her face. She was looking smarter than usual, and very prettily so. James had never been alone and this close with Evans, and it was only now that he realized that she was rather good-looking.

 

            That was until she spoke.

 

            “What are you staring at?” she snapped irritably. Her green eyes, he noticed, surveyed him in distaste, and he was irresistibly reminded of Professor McGonagall’s look when she hands out detention.

 

            “Is there anything to stare at?” he remarked snidely, and was pleased to see Evans’ green eyes narrow, and her fists clench at the satchel she was about to sling on her shoulder.

 

            She glared before she turned her back on him. “We’re going to be late if you just stand there like an idiot; I’d walk if I were you, which I would very much regret to be.”

 

            James snorted, but he trotted a bit to follow her, all the same. “That’s all you can come up with?” he said, with a hint of ridicule in his voice.

 

            Lily rolled her eyes. “ _Fortunately,_ ” she said, stressing the word, “unlike you, I don’t spend my entire lifetime coming up with worthless insults.”

 

            “Ouch,” said James mockingly. “Am I really that horrible to you, Evans?”

 

            “Yes,” Lily hissed.

 

            James grinned. “As if I cared.”

 

 

“Where are we going anyway?” James asked her, when he decided it was safe to talk to her again. “I mean, where are we going to teach the first-years?”

 

            “Oh, I don’t know, maybe in a bathroom?” she told him scathingly.

 

            “ _Excuse me?_ ” said James, almost outraged.

 

            Lily rolled her eyes yet again. “We are going to teach _Potions,_ Potter; where the hell d’you think are we gonna hold the lessons? In the kitchens?” They were descending flight of stairs after flight of stairs, until James realized what Lily meant.

 

            “Oh, how clever of you!” he said, adopting his mocking tone. “Of course we were going to the dungeons! Why haven’t I realized that before?” He thumped his palm against his head. He didn’t know why he was doing it, trying to get Evans to punch him again. He never really liked the taste of his own blood on his swollen lips. There was just something – something _fascinating_ about Evans when she gets wound up.

 

            The two of them stopped at Professor Slughorn’s door. The corridor was cold and dark, and James noticed that Evans seemed apprehensive as she knocked on the door.

 

            When no one responded, Evans knocked again. “I don’t think he’s in there,” James said quietly, breathing down Evans’s back. Evans jumped in surprise and turned to face James, who laughed impishly at her reaction.

 

            “Oh, you _bastard!_ ” she exclaimed, smacking her hand at every bit of him she could reach. James shielded his face with his arms, still laughing. Finally, Evans gave up on him and regarded him coldly instead. “Do that again and I _will_ hex you,” she snarled.

 

            The torches on the cold stone walls of the dungeon corridors flared to life as Professor Slughorn came to view. Behind him was a trail of noisy first-years.

 

            “Lily!” Slughorn boomed. “Lily, m’dear, and the charming Mr. Potter, too!” As ever, he looked like a bouncing, balding walrus. He seemed too delighted to see the pair that he hadn’t noticed Evans rolling her eyes when he mentioned _charming Mr. Potter_.

 

            After much greeting and, on James’ part, snide remarks whispered at Evans’ ear, Slughorn settled for one of the largest dungeons to be used as their classroom.

 

            “Well, thank you very much, you two; of course, I know this ought to be detention but such a waste of talent, don’t you think?” he said, smiling at Evans and James broadly, as though he was doing them a favor. “And in the process of teaching, you learn to cooperate with one another, too!” He clapped his hands happily, giving James a sudden urge to punch him on his large belly.

 

            After introducing them to the first-years, he addressed Evans and James. “Well, I’ll leave you to your own devices, shall I?” he said, still smiling genially at them. “If you need anything, I’ll just be at my office.” He waved a cheery goodbye and stepped out of the dungeon, humming an old tune.

            

            “Madman,” James muttered, shaking his head. Evans rolled her eyes at him.

 

            Annoyed, James said, “Will you stop doing that?”

 

            “No,” said Evans shortly, turning her back to him to write something on the blackboard. Not wishing to look like a fool, James addressed the first-years seated before him. “So,” he said, looking a little smug, “what d’you want to learn?”

 

            “You’re the Gryffindor seeker!” said a tousle-haired first-year Hufflepuff, looking awed.

 

            “Yeah, well,” he said, shrugging casually. Evans shot him an annoyed look before turning back to finish writing on the board.

 

            James turned to her to watch, as she patiently copied something from her notes. She moved gracefully, he noticed, her hair swinging gently behind her as she wrote. He was taken aback when she suddenly swung to look – to glare – at him again. “What are you doing, staring there like a hypnotized idiot? We’re supposed to teach them remember?”

 

            James shook his head, as though waking himself up from a dream. Evans put a hand on her waist and tilted her head sideward impatiently. James pulled himself together and sighed heavily. “All right, let’s start,” he told the first-years.

 

            On the first night of detention, James thought he rather endured the whole business well, and prided himself for it. He was able to resist insulting the first years for being incredibly dimwitted, and more than that, he was able to resist jinxing Lily Evans whenever she threw him an exasperated look or rolled her eyes at him. They had decided to split the class in two, which was a mistake, since half of the first-years was still too big to handle for a lone fourth-year tutor. By the end of the session, Evans’ hair was in disarray, and she looked a bit haggard, while James’ palms were full of marks where his nails had dug whenever he clenched his fists in an attempt for self-control.

 

            For some reason, Evans looked at James more angrily than ever at the end of the lesson. She stepped wordlessly out of the dungeons, looking murderous. Confused, James hastened to catch up with her.

 

            “Evans, wait!” he said, taking hold of her elbow.

 

            “What are you doing?” she said, jerking her elbow away.

 

            James stopped in his tracks. What _was_ he doing, going after Evans? He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking nonplussed. “I was just wondering why you’re –”

 

            “Angry?” Evans suggested contemptuously. “Well, thanks to you,” she said, pressing her index finger on his chest, hard, “I am incredibly _enjoying_ tutoring first years whose least concern in the world is to learn Potions!”

 

            “Are you saying it was _my fault_?” he looked at her in disbelief. “Look now, you’re being unfair,” he protested indignantly. “It’s always my fault with you, isn’t it? It’s my fault you lost control; my fault you punched me; my fault we were berated by McGonagall; my fault we’re having detention together, and now my fault that the first-years we’re supposed to teach are a bunch of potioneering disaster!” His voice had risen now, and Evans looked taken aback, herself.

 

            “I – oh, well, it is!” Evans retorted, but she didn’t sound convincing this time. She looked rather upset, but James ignored this and glared at her.

 

            Flustered, she said, “Oh, all right. Not everything’s your fault. Let’s just – just try again tomorrow, shall we?”

 

            James regarded Evans coolly. She looked very flustered, indeed. She had patches of red on her cheeks, but curiously, she looked as though she was glowing. James found it particularly hard to ignore her eyes, though, and the intensity at which she gazed up at him, betraying her annoyance. He shrugged, not at her idea, but mainly to rid himself of the prickly feeling creeping at the back of his neck as he looked at her.

 

            “What? Do you have better ideas?” she shot at him, thinking he was shrugging her idea away.

 

            He shrugged again. “Maybe we shouldn’t have divided the class,” he suggested, and they began walking again.

 

            “No, you’re right,” Evans conceded. James looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to agree. She was staring at the floor as she spoke, though, and seemed to be serious. “It was my fault, to suggest we split the class. I just didn’t want to work with you, so I insisted so, but I guess we have to try working together or we’ll never get through this detention,” she said, sighing. The duration of their detention depended on how quickly the first-years learned.

 

            James looked at Evans, a little disbelievingly. He never thought Evans could be so magnanimous. He knew it was as much as his fault Evans had punched him and landed her on detention.

 

            “What? Stop staring, will you?” said Evans. James started, not realizing what he was doing.

 

            “Sorry,” he said, slipping back into his smug manner. “There really wasn’t anything to stare at, anyway,” he said grinning.

 

            Evans rolled her eyes.

 

***

 

The following nights weren’t as bad, but they weren’t what Lily would call good, either. Having given up the idea of splitting the class, she forced herself to work in tandem with Potter, whose main goal didn’t seem to tutor, anyway, but to fool around, getting as many first years to do the exact violation of basic Potions concepts.

 

            They were reviewing the concoction of a simple potion to cure boils one night. Lily was busy giving instructions to a bespectacled girl who had undercooked her horned slugs and was now stirring what looked like bright purple muck on her cauldron.

 

            A weedy-looking boy asked, “What happens if you put the porcupine quills before extinguishing the fire?”

 

            Potter, who was lazily sitting on the teacher’s chair with his feet up the teacher’s desk, straightened up, smiling wickedly. “Well, maybe your potion might be over-effective, since you had the quills thoroughly cooked,” he said.

 

            Lily straightened up, too, throwing Potter one of her deepest looks of infuriation. She looked at the weedy boy “I wouldn’t try it, if I were you,” she warned. “Porcupine quills are extremely corrosive when it comes in contact with direct heat.”

 

            The boy looked confused and turned back to Potter, who had already reverted to his previous position. “But he said – ”

 

            It was taking much of Lily’s self-control to stop herself from insulting Potter in front of the first-years. “He was joking,” she said shortly.

 

            “Oh.”

 

            Their lessons went on like this, with Potter saying something stupid or deliberately giving wrong instructions, which Lily countered, often to save a cauldron from wreaking havoc in the dungeons. More often, though, she was annoyed with Potter’s constant staring. Sometimes, she could almost feel his eyes boring at the back of her head. She knew it was just another, more harmless way to provoke her, and she tried hard not to rise to bait, ignoring him pointedly most of the time.

 

            On the positive side, Lily discovered that she rather enjoyed tutoring the first-years. She would feel quite fulfilled when she her pupils would be able to produce a proper potion, or when they get good marks on a drill. Soon, the students became more and more conceptual in their approach, which was a good sign to Lily. It meant they were starting to grasp basic ideas, and not merely blunder at the Potions formula like an amateur Muggle magician trying to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

 

            Potter, subconsciously, was helping the first years think. As proficient as he was in provoking angry reactions from other people, he was also effective in provoking the first-years to think by consistently being lazy, refusing to answer their questions directly.

 

            “Why did the leaves go limp, Mr. Potter?” a girl with carroty hair had asked, frowning over her potion. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”

 

            “Well, I don’t know…” Potter had replied, lounging on the teacher’s chair again. “Maybe there was something wrong with the way you did it,” he suggested vaguely. “Just try to remember the principles.”

 

            Lily had then suppressed rolling her eyes. Of course, the girl had done something wrong; it was pretty obvious. She had forgotten that unless otherwise stated, leaves should always be chopped finely. It helps release its magical properties better.

 

            “Oh, I should have chopped the leaves, shouldn’t I?” the girl had said, finally spotting her error.

 

            Lectures were always harder for Lily. Potter often contradicted her for the sake of annoying her, and she was forced to argue with him in front of the students.

 

            “Of course, the main difference between Alchemy and Potions lies on the goal, and not much else. Alchemy’s main focus was to produce the Elixir –”

 

            “Potions doesn’t have a very specific goal,” Potter pointed out to Lily.

 

            “No, it doesn’t,” Lily acquiesced, annoyed at the interruption, “but I was merely pointing out the distinction of Alchemy –”

 

            “Then Alchemy can be considered a branch under Potions, which, as you said, has a much broader scope –”

 

            It was Lily’s turn to cut him short. “No,” she said firmly, “Potions may not have as specific a goal as Alchemy, but –”

 

            Potter interrupted her again, oblivious to the first-years turning their heads to look at their tutors as they spoke, as though following a volleyball match.

 

            “Then there’s no point comparing them, is there? Alchemy is just a branch under Potions, employing Potions methods and principles to attain a very specific goal –”

 

            Lily wanted to hit him on the head. She contented herself with the image of her hexing Potter into oblivion. “I wasn’t comparing them, Potter,” she told him coldly. “I was merely _pointing out the distinction_ , and in case you don’t understand the difference between distinction and comparison, I daresay look it up in the dictionary,” she snapped, suppressing yet again the urge to insult him in front of the first-years.

 

            Potter threw up his hands and gave a nonchalant shrug. Lily glared at him before turning back to her pupils, who all seemed to shrink back at the look on her face.


	4. Realizations

It was their last lesson. Evans seemed relieved, but James was not. He felt uneasy, although he hadn’t quite figured out why. He habitually sat on Slughorn’s desk, looking at Evans as she shuffled her notes and arranged her books.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare?” she asked, clasping her bag shut. She then began arranging the chairs, gathering broken quills and bits of paper that the students left on their desks. James supposed her habit of cleaning up was part of her Muggle upbringing.

“Yes, I think so,” he replied, shifting comfortably in his seat, grinning at her back. “Come on, Evans, this is our last day of detention! We have house-elves to clear that stuff up,” he said.

Evans looked at him testily, and then returned to arranging the desks. “Well, maybe it’s a task less for them, if we do this,” she replied, with a maddeningly patient air. “It’s a Saturday tomorrow anyway, and you can leave me here now and attend your stupid Quidditch practice, for all I care,” she added, shrugging dismissively.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone, you know,” James said, surprised at how much he meant it. He had rather been accustomed to Evans’ presence, and somehow, he knew that he could never return to taunting her as before. The thought troubled him; he didn’t like the idea that he’d spare someone from his pranks, and he certainly disliked the idea of exempting Lily Evans. Yet, there he was, feeling rather moronic because he couldn’t quite bring himself to do taunt her again.

“If you don’t stop staring at me, I’m going to throw an ink jar at you,” Evans warned, straightening up.

“I wasn’t staring,” James lied, raising his eyebrows in an unconvincing, surprised expression. Evans ignored him, throwing away the bits of trash she had gathered. He continued to stare at her, anyway. It wasn’t absent staring, as he’d thought. It was something else. He had tried discussing it with his friends, but he hadn’t been very convinced either.

He had walked into the common room with some sort of dreamy expression on his face, and Sirius thumped him on the back. “What’s up with you?” his best friend asked.

“Evans,” James had replied before he could stop himself.

“ _Evans?_ ” three disbelieving voices had echoed.

James had nodded, sitting on one of the squishy chairs of the nearly empty Gryffindor common room. He had taken a detour to the boy’s bathroom on their way back from detention, making sure that Evans was already in the girls’ dormitory before approaching his friends.

Remus had been the first to recover. “What do you mean, ‘Evans’?” he’d asked.

James had swallowed hard. “I mean – Evans. What kind of girl is she? I’d say something to annoy her and then she looks at me with her green eyes – you know, the way she does when she’s feeling irritable – and then – and then, that’s it. I’m a goner...” he added, feeling like one.

“Whoa, slow down, man,” said Sirius. “Are you telling me – us – that you – you-” Sirius paused, thinking. “That – hmmm. I don’t get you, mate. At all.”

“You sound like Peter,” James had said, annoyed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter had said, flushing.

Sirius had held up his hands. “All right,” he’d conceded, “let’s hear what little Peter thinks.”

“Well,” Peter had said slowly, “Have you been staring at her subconsciously?”

Sirius and Remus, looking apprehensive, had turned to James, who’d nodded slowly. The two had made disbelieving noises, but Peter had plowed on.

“Do you find her pretty?”

“I – I – yeah, I think she’s pretty...”

“A lot of people think she’s pretty,” Remus had pointed out mildly. 

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Sirius had said, looking at James as though he was a dangerous creature, “but I don’t really gape at her like a buffoon every three minutes, do I?”

“Be quiet, you two,” Peter had said. He had seemed to be enjoying himself, much to James’ irritation. “Are you still fond of teasing her?” he’d asked.

“I….”

“Yes?” Peter, Remus, and Sirius asked in unison.

“No,” he said rather miserably.

James saw Sirius’ mouth fall open. “Are you saying,” he said, in an accusing voice, “that you’re exempting her from our ‘scheme of things?’”

“And by scheme of things, you mean depriving everyone of a peaceful life,” Remus muttered in an undertone.

“I heard you, Remus,” said Sirius darkly, “but that is not the point. James, mate, we _vowed_ , didn’t we, that we – _we_ rule? How can you commit this – this – treachery?” He was gesturing wildly and theatrically, and Remus and Peter covered their faces. He always had the tendency to be melodramatic. “How can you succumb to the much inferior charms of a girl with red hair and green eyes and one too sensible to fall for your – your – agh,” he finished, at a loss for words.

“I think that’s part of the attraction,” said Remus, and three heads turned to his direction, looking at him as though he said something taboo. He threw up his hands. “Just an opinion,” he said, placating.

James sighed heavily. “So what is the point?”

“The point,” said Peter, sounding rather smug, “is that you fancy Lily Evans.”

James covered his face with the pillow that Sirius just threw at him.

 

***

_A/N: I really hope you enjoy reading. I wrote it a year ago and had neglected to update since then. I don't_ _think it's finished yet, but I only have so much time to write these things... I do hope you'd enjoy reading them, anyway. I know it's not perfect, so your reviews would be so so so appreciated. Thank you! :)_   



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